A Moment to Breathe
by QuasiOuster
Summary: Post-midseason 4 finale. After coping with issues of separation and grief, Michonne and Daryl deal with the complications of hope and an unexpected reunion.


_**Author's Note: **__**I do not own or profit from any aspect of The Walking Dead franchise as a result of the following musings. ****There are spoilers for season 4 so far and minor spoilers for the comic book. The story takes **_**_place an undisclosed amount of time after the midseason finale._**

_**This started out as a prompt from my beta that was supposed to be a very short scene**__—_I really did try hard to deliver that. But it seems I'm mentally incapable of writing anything under 1500 words (… or well over twice that count apparently). Also, I wrote this quite quickly and offhandedly so it's a bit rough around the edges and experimental in a way that I'm not going to spend too much time tweaking. Apologies for any distraction due to that and I hope you enjoy anyway.

* * *

**A Moment to Breathe**

They'd done it. They'd finally reunited what was left of their old community.

The furor had died down and people were milling about doing the things that needed to be done before the sun went down. Emotions were still running high but each person was finding a comfortable resting place for their excitement amidst the new circumstances. Introductions had been made and plans altered to accommodate the changes to the different collectives.

For the wandering souls who fled the prison following the Governor's attack, the journey back to each other had been challenging in different ways. Amazing things had happened and incredible encounters had changed who each was from when they'd last been together. Not all had survived, but those who had believed the search worth the sacrifices.

With the day coming to a close, both Michonne and Daryl were especially restless despite the upbeat mood around them. It was a shock to their systems, this coming together with people; the reunions, the rekindling of relationships and the reigniting of suppressed affections proved to be exhausting. A return to the wild had brought out the honed instincts in them, easy to incite but difficult to shake once triggered.

With the fall of the prison, Daryl had felt a sense of loss contrasted with a confidence that he was capable of handling himself alone on the road. Even with Beth as his responsibility, there was a security to his executing a plan and relying on the instincts he'd built up his entire life.

Michonne, being alone in the middle of nowhere, felt as if her life was becoming one of cycles. The solitary days accumulated and so did her doubts on the merits of community over isolation.

Over time, as paths crossed and friends were rediscovered, there also came the confusion. What role do these connections play in their future now knowing how difficult the separations could be? Losing people was hard. The perpetual ambiguity about a loved one's survival was worse. If it weren't for finding a few of the old prison crew, Daryl wondered if he'd have sought out a safe space for Beth and moved on alone. For Michonne, her reluctance opening up with new group members continued to be a constant struggle.

It turned out Daryl was having a harder time than Michonne reconnecting to people, probably because she'd always kept one foot in the margins of their group while he'd pretty much gone native before they'd even met. Daryl had invested more in being part of what they'd created at the prison and his stakes had been different, higher. He couldn't just fall back into that given all they'd lost. On the other hand, it was only towards the end that Michonne had fully committed to her chosen community; there'd been no time for her to see how that suited her and she was no worse for the stalled attempt.

Completing her assessment of the newly combined camp, Michonne found Daryl sitting away from the others, performing maintenance on his weapons and establishing a remote watch at the perimeter. He sat leaning against a pile of gear, guarding his lookout point as he went about his chore. There was something satisfying in his recognition of her footfalls, a solace after so much time spent navigating the unknown. And despite the passage of time and the distance from each other, he loved that she remembered their old routines for sharing company.

Taking a seat next to Daryl, a rush of sensation bombarded Michonne's thoughts. It was nothing new to find him doing something productive for his group, always more content to be away from the thick of things. When her shoulder brushed against his, she wanted to lean into the comfort of his strong body, feel the way their slick skin glided together in the steamy summer heat. It made her want to curl up against him. He turned to acknowledge her, flicking his hair out of his eyes with a practiced toss of the head. Such a familiar gesture made her smile. That little tick had always charmed her.

Michonne watched him perform the same movements she'd seen hundreds of times before. There was something rejuvenating to it, the knowing another persons rhythms almost as if they were one's own. He didn't speak; neither did she. However, he wanted her there and she'd sought him out for no other reason than to enjoy his presence next to her.

* * *

_Earlier that day..._

_When everyone had dispersed as the violence escalated and the prison became overrun, the ensuing days and weeks saw the group coming back together in trickles and clusters. It was only a few hours past dawn that Michonne's group of stragglers came across the contingent Daryl had been traveling with. _

_Michonne's distress over the initial separation transformed back into her trademark stoic pragmatism. She spent little time wondering who had survived and who had perished in the skirmish. It didn't matter—they were scattered with no home to return to. She only hoped that a few had managed to band together to increase their odds of outrunning death until they found safety again. _

_There was little doubt in her mind that Daryl had escaped the massacre but she was dubious about ever seeing him again. With each new reunion, she refused to get her hopes up. She pushed down any inclination to will him back into her life. When they'd found more of their people this morning and she hadn't seen Daryl amongst them, she steeled her heart once more, fortifying it even more strongly. His absence served as validation for refusing to deceive herself with foolish assurances._

_It wasn't until coming up for air from one of Beth's enthusiastic hugs that she learned willing him out of her heart was useless. _

"_When Daryl gets back from hunting, he's gonna freak out when he sees you," Beth said. _

_Michonne let go of the young girl, quiet and tense at the shock of what she'd revealed. Relief and elation then emerged followed by panic and a crushing anticipation. Beth seemed to enjoy being the one to deliver such good news. _

_Finally, she found her wits and her voice again. "I don't know if I've seen Daryl freak out about anything ever."_

"_Well, I have and he's gonna do it today." Beth smirked at her. "He didn't talk much about it but he was really upset about losing you. It was easier when we were on the run. Whenever things got quiet, though, you could tell he was thinking on it. It was sad but it was sweet too."_

_Michonne's cheeks warmed yet she said nothing further on the matter. _

_It would be a while before Daryl returned so she and Beth took a seat and moved on to other topics. They had a long, serious talk about losing Hershel and Michonne explained how he had been thinking about her and Maggie up until the end. _

_The elder statesman's fondness for Michonne was no secret either. It had been strong from the first day he met her. He'd sensed the weary strength in her, so similar to his own. And he'd eventually picked up on the echo of her losses. After the situation with the Governor's deal had gone awry, Daryl and Rick had offered brief yet heartfelt apologies. But it was Hershel that insisted on having a full conversation on the matter; they'd spent an entire morning talking and reflecting that day. He'd initially been against the idea of turning her over, knowing it was wrong. Still, he'd come dangerously close to endorsing it before Rick changed his mind. While he regretted the situation and felt bad about the stakes, he didn't feel sorry for his ultimate willingness to sacrifice her—he owned his decision and freely admitted it to Michonne. He wouldn't ever feel sorry for doing everything he could to protect his girls. _

_No one in their group understood that more than Michonne and they'd exchanged confidences that morning that cemented their friendship and set it apart from the camaraderie they shared with the rest of their friends. And more so than any other group member besides Glenn, he treated her as one of his own, all of the Greene's did. In return, he was the only one to whom she showed any sense of obedience. _

_She'd always carry the weight of his death at the end of her sword no matter if it hadn't been her wielding it. There were many days that she worried over whether Beth and Maggie realized that—it was a privilege to finally relay her regrets to Beth in person._

_Meanwhile, Daryl, out hunting since early that morning, had missed the initial chaos of the groups' chance meeting; he'd been focused on catching some food that would supplement the communal stash for a few more days. With the constant feeling of displacement and the press of people and their never-ending needs, it was nice to get the time to himself, doing what he knew how to do for the benefit of the greater group. Tracking, hunting, scavenging—it was in his blood and with everything changing around him on a daily basis it helped to be grounded in the reality of that. He had reached a point where he could enjoy the solitude without thinking about his losses or responsibilities left unfulfilled._

_So many people in that godforsaken prison had been family and he'd walked the line between mourning them and hoping that they'd found a way to survive. However, with Michonne, hope wasn't an option when his last image of her was so dire. _

_In the beginning, he kept faith that she was capable of surviving anything but the doubts crept in as the lonely days on the road stretched on. It made him increasingly angry to think of holding onto her. She'd been right in the middle of the crossfire with the Governor at her back. He hadn't been able to tell from his vantage point if she was hurt before all hell broke loose; she had seemed sturdy enough with a gun to her head and a tank-equipped militia flanking her. Even if she'd managed to come out of that unscathed, it didn't factor in the walkers crawling out of the woods and her on her knees, arms tied behind her back with her katana in the hands of a madman. _

_She was the most amazing warrior he'd ever seen but she wasn't superhuman. How could she possibly survive that with enough steam left over to spend a seemingly immeasurable expanse of time on the road? He'd driven himself crazy replaying those facts when he got to missing her presence. _

_With his kills slung across his shoulder, Daryl had harbored no suspicions of what awaited his return to his temporary camp; the surprise at seeing the familiar faces overwhelmed him as he approached the energized and expanded crowd. Not being a particularly affectionate man to begin with, it was difficult to express his relief and happiness at seeing friends he'd suspected gone forever. He walked right into the middle of them, soon losing himself in firm handshakes and enthusiastic clasping of shoulders. The occasional uncomfortable embrace couldn't be avoided either but Daryl didn't mind too much. _

_At last seeing Michonne standing at the fringes of the group, her back to him, all of his worries rushed into his throat and then burned out, replaced by a flaring up of pride and longing. It made his eyes sting with emotion and his fingers itch to take hold of her as tightly as she could stand. _

_Hope was a cruel thing to harbor but so was underestimating her instinct to survive. _

_When Michonne turned around and their eyes finally met, there was a mutual spark and also the momentary question of how to handle the inevitable pull towards each other. They weren't big on public displays and there was no way either wanted to put on a show for the people hanging around. Not that people were paying them much attention, still giddy from the benefits of their combined resources and renewed spirits. And as far as romantic reunions went, the group remained over the moon about Glenn and Maggie finding each other again. Besides, most folks in the old crew had no idea Daryl and Michonne had been nourishing a different kind of private partnership right under their noses. _

_Strolling over to where she stood, his grin widened at seeing her unguarded smile directed at him. Her response was discrete but joyful in her usual contrasting style. _

_Daryl adjusted his crossbow and ducked his head for a moment to hide the intensity of his delight. "Took you long enough to find us. I coulda been all the way to the coast and back waitin' on you." He shuffled from one foot to the other, unclear on what kind of gesture would be appropriate for the occasion._

_Her matching caution seemed uncharacteristic, even to her. She put a hand on her hip but made no move to embrace him or do anything too forward. "Next time I'll leave a note," she countered. They chuckled at her customary dig. She'd use that line when he sassed her about disappearing on one of her 'secret ninja missions' as he'd dubbed her runs. _

_Neither seemed able to fully contain their excitement. Yet they retained an awkward distance lest they succumb to the overwhelming impulse to lose themselves in each other, audience be damned._

_Michonne was the first to buckle. _

_She stepped up to run her fingers through his shaggy hair under the guise of an affectionate ruffling. Daryl closed his eyes to take full pleasure in the contact. His relief at having her in front of him to joke with and push his buttons, it made him feel wanted and special in a way he hadn't dared wish for again. _

_He pushed her hand away, intertwining their fingers. Time seemed to stop at the contact and he pulled her to him, not flush but oh so near. Michonne could see herself reaching up to caress his rough cheek and grizzled chin. Daryl's desire to encircle her body and pull her against him almost defied resistance. Images of drawing closer for a meeting of lips and tongues and whatever else they could touch ignited in them both. For a few moments, they breathed each other in, once again partners and in sync with a connection neither had expected to rediscover. _

_At Daryl's shoulder, an exuberant laugh rose up, the tread of multiple footsteps approached, the aroma of fire and sweat breezed across their skin. It all brought their attention back to present concerns. _

_Without ever having made further contact, Daryl squeezed the rough, sure fingers in his grasp before letting her go. When he showed her how much he'd missed her__—_and he'd show her before too much time passed_—_he wanted to do it in an uninterrupted privacy not afforded to them at the moment.

_For now, this was about as demonstrative as it got for them. And it still felt amazing._

* * *

The sky darkened as Michonne rested idly next to Daryl at his guard post. Traces of conversation and activity could be heard at their backs. After a while, she picked up one of Daryl's knives. He'd already cleaned it after having gutted and skinned the animals he'd caught earlier. She didn't recognize the handle or the blade design so he must have acquired it in his travels. She tested the weight of it and slid the blade face across her fingers, approving of how he maintained an efficient sharpness. Daryl eyed her scrutiny, amused and relaxed by the company.

"You don't adopt just any old knife so this must be pretty special. Decent weight, solid grip; looks like it holds a good edge. Nice find." She returned the knife to his small pile of weapons.

Tilting his crossbow, he picked out some grime from one of the mechanisms with his makeshift cleaning rod. He turned his head a bit to catch her eye for a second. "There ya go flirtin' with me again. Makes me think you tryin' to start somethin', all that sweet talk about a man's weapon."

The brightness in his expression didn't go unnoticed. "So is it working? Either the flirting or the trying to start something?" He remained silent save the leer stretching at his lips. "In that case, I think your crossbow is sexier." She caressed seductive fingers along the barrel of the weapon in his hands as her other arm wrapped around his middle to give him a squeeze.

Now Daryl was sure she was trying to start something, and he couldn't say he minded one bit. Too bad this wasn't the time or place for fooling around with others in partial view off in the distance. Releasing a shaky, aroused breath, he nudged her playfully with his elbow but shimmied closer to her so she could hold him in a loose embrace. "I'll keep that in mind, babe."

His words and his gaze intensified her ache for him so she broke eye contact to search for a distraction. Sighing, she scanned the area for a minute before propping her chin up on his shoulder. "It's quiet here," she commented.

"For now." A flash of wary sadness shadowed across his face before he shook it off. He continued with his work, mindful of the way her body melded into his. "Aint ever a long wait these days before shit goes down."

Michonne stretched her legs before turning them towards the man next to her, yielding to her earlier craving to burrow into his side. "Probably." She repositioned her head so that it rested alongside his, not quite leaning on him but close enough to feel the prickle of his long hair against her cheek.

Daryl turned his attention to the pile of arrows on the other side of him, cleaning the heads and checking for damaged parts. "Feels better than it has in a long time though. What do ya make 'a that?" A grin flashed across her lips as he suggestively pushed his thigh into hers.

"No clue," Michonne said chuckling.

"Me neither," he added, pausing in his work to caress her inner thigh, a brief pressure to ensure she stayed near him. Before Michonne could properly enjoy the sensation of his touch, Daryl reached for another arrow. "Havin' all these people around again is gonna take some gettin' used to."

Michonne leisurely stroked a hand against his warm side. It seemed overly sentimental but she relished each gentle inhale and exhale he took. "You got something in mind that needs a little privacy?"

"Hell yeah. If we didn't have all these damn onlookers, you'd be havin' the best sex of your life right now." His statement was so matter of fact, she knew he was serious. "Got a bunch 'a time to make up for." She hummed her approval and held him tighter.

"Wait. You mean the sex would be with you?" She raised her head from his shoulder to confront him properly with her jest.

"Unless you got a better offer," he countered, not missing a beat and setting his newly cleaned arrow aside. "If so, I'll beat his ass and then we can get right back to business." Her soft laughter tickled his neck.

His open expression of desire, his nearness, it intoxicated her. It was difficult to deny herself the pleasure of straddling him and throwing caution—and his weapons—to the wind. Having a good idea of what she was thinking, it was equally difficult for Daryl not to encourage her so he could devour her. Her soft body coaxing all kinds of urgings to the surface were a reminder of how much better she'd feel on top of him. He was starving for a taste of her.

Alas, there were too many eyes and ears lurking and not enough cover to sample what they really wanted from these moments together, even for people as discrete as they.

Placing a soft kiss at his cheek, the feel of his shy smile against her lips elicited one of her own. She rested her chin on his shoulder again. "Rain check then," she murmured into his ear, promise lacing her husky voice. Her arm fell away from his side, releasing him to finish his task.

When she used his shoulder to prop herself up into a standing position, Daryl reached up to clutch her hand before she moved away. His lips fluttered over the exposed skin beneath her glove. "Don't you worry. I'm 'a get mine 'fore too much longer," he confirmed with a wink.

Pulling her hand away, she brushed the hair out of his eyes and let her fingers travel through his windblown locks, her touch lingering at the base of his neck. A single finger slid briefly underneath his bearded chin.

"Not if I get to you first." Deep-voiced laughter followed her retreat. A peek over her shoulder found his eyes tracking her with a focus that left no ambiguity about his intentions for her.

It would be hard to avoid the trappings of depending on each other. They realized that another lengthy separation was possible if not inevitable—potentially permanent as well. There were only so many additional happy endings this world would allow. And yes, people like them could be short on expectations and skeptical of second chances. There were no guarantees; there never had been. Yet neither could deny that it was easier to breathe when the other was accounted for in their lives.

Best to savor the things they cherished even if only for a few moments.

_Fini_

* * *

_**AN: FYI, for anyone following Muted, that'll be updated pretty soon. Obviously I got distracted during the editing process. **_


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